


A Measure of Freedom in Performance

by zarabithia



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M, Glasses kink, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-08
Updated: 2007-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-20 17:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Clark doesn't have much use for "Diana Prince." But he does really, really like the glasses.





	A Measure of Freedom in Performance

They typically adjourn to the Fortress not only because Diana is _not_ quiet, but also because she alternates between "Kal" and "Clark," depending upon both her mood and his actions. It's not something the neighbors should hear through the thin apartment walls belonging to either Clark Kent or Diana Prince. Nor does Diana appreciate having to rein in her passion to accommodate the fragile human made beds, which are not designed to completely hold an enthusiastic Amazon.

So this afternoon in the Fortress is similar to many others Superman and Wonder Woman have spent, a calm day in which both sets of supervillains have seen fit to leave them alone long enough for them to steal a few precious moments to themselves. With anyone else, Clark would have spent those moments entirely upon his back, as it is the only position he ever feels certain will not cause him to accidentally hurt his lovers. But with Diana, he doesn't _need_ to take such a precaution. Their lovemaking is a series of turns and struggles as they fight for dominance. The playful tumbling brings forth memories of the childish joy that Clark had felt the day he'd learned that every single member of the Legion of Superheroes could fly - the same feeling of not being _alone_.

As is befitting her title as the warrior among them, Diana ultimately wins, as she uses the lasso to bind his hands and hold him into place. Another familiar scenario in their sex lives, Clark thinks, as he willingly submits and allows Diana to dictate the rules of the rest of their play.

That is when their afternoon tumbles into unfamiliar territory.

Diana leaves him alone on the bed long enough to retrieve her long discarded Diana Prince glasses. She slides them on, walks back over to the bed, and straddles him. Clark groans with pleasure as she takes him inside of her, and his moans intensify as she jerks on the lasso, the magic of the rope cutting into his wrists more deeply with each downward thrust of Diana's hips. Both are familiar sensations but this afternoon, it's the glasses that really get to him.

He's mentioned liking them before, but it has only been a passing joke, the expected comment from Clark Kent, nothing more. The fetish potential has never been suspected, but it is not one that Clark can deny, as the sight of Diana peering down at him through her lenses drives him over the edge in record time. He lasts barely long enough to allow Diana to climax first.

After they finish, the appeal of the glasses is something he feels guilty for. As she unties his hands, Diana notices his remorse. "What is the matter, Clark? You haven't looked this guilty in a long time. Not since the week following your divorce from Lois."

"It's the glasses," Clark begins, rolling over on his side to face her, rubbing the temporary scars on his wrists that Diana's lasso has caused.

"Mmm," Diana shifts onto her elbow, allowing her hair to tumble freely over her shoulders as she peers down at him. Her hair is the only thing covering her nakedness, as Diana has never felt the need to cover herself with a blanket. "I believed they would invoke a reaction, but I had no idea it would be so strong. I'll have to bring them more often."

Biting his lip, he offers sincerely, "I feel like I should apologize to you for enjoying it so much."

She runs her fingers through his hair and Clark delights in the firmness of her touch. "I enjoyed myself as much as you did. As you made certain of that, I see no reason for you to apologize. "

"You aren't Diana Prince," Clark explains. "The glasses are as fake as Bruce's playboy persona. . . maybe moreso."

"Or as fake as Clark Kent's glasses?" Diana prods, shaking her head at him as he hesitantly nods. "Everyone has fantasies that extend beyond who they are, Kal. Enjoying seeing me in glasses is no different than the average person's high heel fetish, or the role play that millions enjoy in their bedrooms."

"I hadn't thought of it quite like that..."

"For the record, I far prefer your glasses fetish to any doctor-nurse fantasies that you may harbor."

A laugh slips out of Clark, even as he blushes brightly enough to match the sheets they lie upon. "I really can't believe that anyone who talked to you for five minutes ever believed the naive and innocent act you were giving the department of metahuman affairs, Diana."

She laughs, sending want all through his spine. "It's not my first day off the island, Kal. You should know that." Shifting again, she reaches for his wrists, that have healed from the marks she inflicted. "Are you over the guilt now, or do you need more convincing?"

He shakes his head, whimpering a bit as Diana pulls him closer and drops a trail of kisses along his neck. "You - ah - convinced me. Who am I to argue with Wonder Woman?"

"That's a good point. As a man, you were not blessed with Athena's wisdom." She pauses long enough to smile brilliantly at him. "But if it will make you feel better, you can wear the glasses next time."

"I don't know. As long as we're role playing, there's probably a lot more interesting roles we can find than Clark Kent."

"You can dress as Batman all you want, Kal. But I am _not_ wearing the Nightwing costume." She kisses him full and hard on the lips, rolling onto him at the same time. "Besides, I am very _fond_ of Clark Kent."

For their encore, Clark very happily allows Diana the right to lead without so much as a murmured protest.  



End file.
